


Release

by Ladycat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, M/M, Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-12
Updated: 2014-02-12
Packaged: 2018-01-12 03:04:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1181157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladycat/pseuds/Ladycat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You’ve got to get control of yourself!” Draco’s eyes were glassy and bloodshot, his normally immaculate presentation destroyed after their frantic run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Release

Rain lashed at them, branches clinging at their clothes, tearing through the fibers as they scrambled on ground slick and unsteady under their feet. The stinking rot of mud filled their heads, harsh panting lost in the scream of the wind. A single wand provided some attempt at light, darkness lapping at the edges and trying to confuse them.

“You’ve got to get control of yourself!” Draco’s eyes were glassy and bloodshot, his normally immaculate presentation destroyed after their frantic run. His clothes hung in sodden strips over his body, a few thin scratches dotted with blood visible in between. “That’s how they’re _tracking_ us.”

Harry knew. It wasn’t like he could ignore the way his vision occasionally flashed metallic, the tension in his chest building until he knew he’d soon crack from it. Magic made sopping locks of hair stand up straight, his lenses rattling against their screws. He knew he was a beacon in the stormy night, highlighted with neon for their hunters.

But he couldn’t _stop_.

He shoved Draco against a tree, ignoring the sharp cry and equally sharp comment about painfully knotted bark. He knew Draco was scared and knew that fear always meant pure Malfoy rage—that wasn’t the problem. One hand pinning Draco despite his struggles, Harry tore at Draco’s robe, exposing his inner forearms to _lumos_ and lightning-shot skies.

Bare. Streaked with mud and blood, but they were _bare_.

Draco’s laugh was needle-sharp. “Is _that_ your problem, Potter? You fucking self-righteous bastard, you _knew_ I was spying for you! That’s why I was _there_! And you’re still letting them track us and now we aren’t even moving and you have to get a hold of yourself _now_ , before you kill us both!”

It didn’t sound like Draco. It sounded like a boy who wanted so much to be a man, terrified and clinging to his self-possession with all the stubbornness in his slim body. While the storm raged around them, magically enhanced by their hunters, Harry studied Draco for a moment—

And then kissed him.

“No,” he panted against Draco’s mouth—opening and giving and yes, he was _right_ —“I don’t.”

“They’ll _find_ us!”

Harry silenced any further protestations with his mouth, taking both Draco’s wrists in one hand, the other busy with their trousers. Rain made their kisses messier, ozone and acid flavoring their lips. Draco was biting at him, but the pain just added warmth and familiarity. This was what he’d been missing the past six months, the frantic push and pull, give and take that was Draco’s body tight against his own. Draco’s _cock_ against his own.

“Fuck you, Potter,” Draco moaned, arching up so that bird-bones pressed painfully into Harry’s flesh. His hips were already rocking, cocks slick from the rain and their own need rubbing together even before Harry got a hand around them to start stroking. “You need to control yourself. They’ll find us, and the only thing that’s going to make our reception worse is if I can’t do anything to protect you! Please, just—”

Harry twisted his fist, practiced habit despite months of separation turning Draco’s words into choked-off moans. “They aren’t going to find us,” he said. “And I’m not ‘controlling’ myself any longer.”

“But—oh, hell, _Harry_.”

That was the moan Harry was waiting for. That moment when Draco stopped fighting him, pretending proprietary and dislike until his real responses started bleeding through. Harry kissed him fiercely, breathing his air and frotting against his body. This was what he’d missed, what he’d wanted for the past six months of fruitless searching. Looseing a spy would be bad and he was quite sure that he was going to get yelled at by a lot of people, later. But that was later, and Harry didn’t care who yelled at him anymore.

Harry wanted Draco panting against him, body moving in perfect sync. He wanted Draco with him while they planned and plotted and scrambled to do something. He wanted Draco when he woke up and dreamed about him when he slept. He’d _been_ controlling himself since the day Draco vanished back to his father’s Manor and he wasn’t going to any longer.

He was letting go.

The storm had slowed to a gentle rain by the time they stopped shuddering, washing their essence from Harry’s fingers. Draco was whimpering on the end of each breath, sign that he’d exhausted himself, from more than just the orgasm Harry’d wrung from his body. Harry kissed him again, tonguing over a growing bruise in apology.

Draco’s arms felt so good around him, again. Shaking in reaction, Draco rested his forehead against Harry’s. “We have to move.”

“No, we don’t, Draco.” Harry wasn’t steady on his own feet, but he still managed to shoulder most of Draco’s weight. “We can go home, Draco.”

“Oh, yes, that’s lovely. Where all your friends think I’m—”

Harry’s response was to kiss Draco until his lower lip bled. “I don’t _care_ what they say. And you’ve never cared what anyone’s said about you, ever, Draco, so don’t start now. We’re going home, both of us.”

“If Aunt Bellatrix doesn’t find us,” Draco complained.

Harry thought of the starburst of light that’d bloomed as he felt Draco come, a rushing waterfall of power and a distant scream he’d heard without his ears. “She won’t.”


End file.
